In Any Lifetime, In Any Time
by Swa-Sa Masou
Summary: Mary and Francis, taking a different route when Francis awakens from his coma. Condé isn't painted as badly as he is in some of my other stories.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Still not over it. Mary's just so out of character for the second half of season two. So here I am, a full-grown adult with real adult responsibilities, obsessing over a tv show and the multitude of possible ways it could have gone that would have been so much better. Story of Mary and Francis reconnecting sooner, with less betrayal._

"Mary, if we're going to leave, and send troops to Scotland, now is the time, you have the authority. You have the power when Francis is incapacitated. We need to go. We can save your country and be together!" Louis had taken her hands in his and was looking down at her in front of the map showing the northern third of France and the main British isle.

She knew that he had meant Scotland, but his use of 'your country' had struck something. France is also her country. Ever since he mentioned his plan of taking her to Scotland so that they could be together, she had been uneasy. She didn't want to leave France. These were her people and Francis, strained as things had become, was her husband. Even if she wanted to leave, her claim to Scotland rode heavily on her faith and her people were unlikely to accept a woman who had left her husband.

With Francis fallen ill, that unease increased three-fold. During her musings, looking at the map, contemplating pros and cons, Louis had run his hands from her own, up her arms, and was now coaxing her face back to his. She realized that he was going to kiss her. "Louis, stop. I can't." She pulled away. "My husband is lying in bed, possibly dying." She turned back to the map, hoping that focusing on a more pressing matter would occupy the presence of mind needed and she wouldn't be able to worry about her heart. "I just can't do this right now."

She glanced up at Louis' face once more and then turned on her heel. She strode confidently out of the room, very unlike how she felt.

She walked straight to Francis' room and walked quietly up to his bed. It seemed the thing to do when in the room of a sleeping person- to walk quietly. It occurred to Mary, however, that they wanted Francis to wake and she should almost be coming in waving a tambourine and knocking things to the floor, anything to wake him.

For the past two nights, Mary had been avoiding Louis. It was easier to be with him when she could still be mad at Francis. When she could still blame him for what had happened to her. Now, she was so afraid to lose him that she realized she had forgiven him quite a while ago. She had taken to pulling a chair to the edge of the bed and taking Francis' hand in hers, praying for him while he slept. Both of the previous nights, she had awoken to the sound of his breathing as he head had drooped to his chest. The sound no longer scared her.

No, what scared her was the idea that she would never get to say that she loved him again and get to hear it returned. What scared her was that they had both taken steps too far in their marriage to ever repair it. When she was here, in this room with him, it seemed simpler. They were wed. Her husband lay before her and she desperately needed him to awaken.

When she stepped outside of this room, she had stepped into the role of commander in chief of French forces. She had to make decisions for Scotland and for France and balance the most good for the most people. She also had Louis to consider.

Clutching his hand to her, she spoke softly to him, "Francis, I know you can't hear me, but if you could, I would hope that you would understand. I would hope that you would forgive me. I've forgiven you and I'm so, so sorry. I'm sending 2,000 French troops to help settle the Protestant lords in Scotland. Though I long to see Scotland and to give the orders for these troops, I know my place is here. With you." She sat down in the chair at his bedside and stroked his hair away from his forehead.

He felt- cooler? Less feverish than he had the previous night. "Francis?" She raised her voice slightly.

He stirred.

"Francis, can you hear me?" She ran her fingers through his hair again and realized the hand holding his had been applying more pressure than she meant for it to and she released it. "Francis, I need you to wake up. Please, Francis."

His eyes fluttered.

She turned toward the door, "Catherine!" She screamed. A guard came to the door. "Get the Queen Mother and the physician. The king is showing signs of waking." She turned back to him and continued to try to coax him awake.

The bodies stirring behind her couldn't rouse her from his side as he opened his eyes and seemed to take in what was around him, to take in Mary leaning over him. "Francis, you're awake!" She was smiling and sobbing and she saw one of her tears fall onto their hands. Catherine came up beside her and pushed her to the side, the physician close behind her.

Mary began to back up, giving Catherine access to her son and the physician access to ascertain his medical standing. She had not been planning to go anywhere, but Catherine turned toward her, hatred on her face. "I think you've done enough. He doesn't need his traitorous wife in the room."

Thinking of retorting, but realizing an argument between herself and his mother wouldn't be best for Francis right after he woke up, she left the room


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Longer Chapter, Mary and Francis talk_

Walking with Lola and explaining Francis' condition the next morning, Mary had renewed hope. What she'd been so fervently hoping for had come to pass and Francis was awake and recovering. Lola was pressing her for details about Scotland, though, and Mary had no real answers for her.

"Well, of course I won't be going. Francis has just woken up and there is still so much instability both in our marriage and in France. As for troops, I want to send them but- "

Mary was cut off by Catherine rounding the corner, "but that's not your place. It's Francis' decision now that he's no longer incapacitated. I took the liberty of informing him of your betrayal- both personal and political. He says he's made a decision." Catherine did not direct Mary to follow her, but Mary did anyway. She didn't know if that had been Catherine's intent, or if it had merely been to gloat.

Entering Francis' room, Mary smiled. He was sitting up. He looked alert, if a pale. "Francis!" Mary started toward him, but the lack of a return smile combined with Catherine's previous comments stopped her cold and kept her rooted in place.

Francis explained to an outraged Catherine and a stunned Mary that he would indeed send troops to Scotland to bolster the alliance against the common foe of England. To showcase France's strength. Catherine wanted to protest but Francis' said his decision was final and she stormed from the room.

It was just Francis and Mary left.

She started toward the bed again, noting the chair she had spent two nights in was now at the foot of the bed. "Francis, I don't know what your mother told you-" His voice stopped her words and her approach.

Being cut off for the second time that day, Mary understood that Francis needed to speak, "She told me everything, Mary. She told me how you were planning to leave me, damning our marriage vows. She told me that you planned to abandon our alliance, the crown France bestowed upon you, and to forsake the country that has housed you from the time you were a very young child." The venom rose in his voice, "I'm keeping my part of the bargain. It is the honorable thing to do."

Mary steeled herself and finished her walk toward the bed. She sat on the edge of it near his feet, noting that the action made his uncomfortable. "Francis, I know that your mother's distaste for me and what she deems as usurping your power, along with my," she paused. Was it still infidelity if she had gotten his permission? Yes, she decided, as she had been sneaking around and entertaining her feelings for Louis before Francis had known of it, "my infidelity, is great. However, she only knows what her spies are able to tell her." She smoothed out her skirts to avoid looking at Francis as she gathered her courage. "Francis, I know that we have ceased to be close, but I thought you knew me better than this. I have always put my duty above my feelings as have you. It's who we are. This has usually been to your detriment as you've been hurt more than anyone by my need to be the best queen possible for my people"

Francis scoffed at this and turned away from her. "And you're telling me that begging me to sanction your affair was in the best interest of your people? It's a completely selfish request, Mary, and you know it."

She gulped. "Yes, I suppose it does look selfish and it was, partially. But I was becoming bitter. I was weak, meek, and scared. I'm not saying that this affair has been right. I'm only saying that it renewed my strength and reminded me that I am more than your wife. I am a queen of two nations, one by birthright and I need to be acting as such. And I am acting as such, Francis. For example, you should know that I would never abandon our alliance or my people here in France. I have come to love them as I love the people of Scotland." She hopped off the bed and gripped the lower post of the bed, "You more than anyone should know that my feelings are irrelevant and that am not going anywhere. I've forgiven you everything and I fully intend to stay, in hopes that someday you'll forgive me too."

Settling back against his pillows, Francis looked weak and Mary realized that she was putting him under a great deal of strain as he should be resting. "Mary, will you hand me a cup of water, please?" Mary did so, holding the goblet for him and helping him sit up. "Mary, I'm not quite as weak as all this. I can hold my own water cup." He smiled and sat back again. "As much as I might wish that it was out of love instead of duty that you're staying, I suppose I'm just relieved that you are. I didn't want to think the worst of you, but you've given me plenty of evidence."

Setting the cup down sharply and turning back to her husband. "I never said anything about my feelings currently. I was merely stating the reasons that, absent of any emotions, you should have known I would stay. I still care for you, Francis. I always have. I just couldn't bear to be around you. But while you've been asleep, I've been here. Ask Bash, ask any of the servants, ask your mother, though she would be loath to admit it, I've been here every spare moment praying for you and keeping watch, straining with everything I have to see any sign of life." Pausing, she gripped the armrest of the chair and swung it to its former place, "The previous two nights I stayed in this chair all night. I held your hand. I prayed. I fell asleep on your chest, listening to your heart, your breath. Remembering happier times when I had fallen asleep on your chest, in the comfort of your arms. I long for that again, Francis. I just don't know how to get there."

Curling his hands into the furs of the topmost blanket, Francis considered all that she was telling him. "So, Condé is gone, then?" Mary's eyes dropped immediately to the floor, guilt all over her face. "I thought not. Mary, how am I to believe a word that you've said if he's still in your life?"

Closing her eyes, Mary wished to just leave the room, but she couldn't run from these conversations with her husband if they ever hoped to be united again. Opening them on a deep exhale, she tried to explain, "The situation is more delicate than that, Francis."

He spoke harshly, "you mean your feelings for him are stronger, don't mince words, Mary."

Her words came out equally sharp, knowing that this could escalate into a full-blown shouting match and that she should try to stop that from happening, she kept her tone even, if clipped, "No, Francis, there is more to it. Elizabeth has entered the equation and to extract myself at this point is both dangerous for us politically as well as difficult for me to do to someone whose only fault in all of this has been to love me." Tears shone in Mary's eyes and she willed them not to fall.

Francis saw them as well and desired so strongly to take her in his arms and wipe them away. This conversation was too important. He had to remain strong even as his body was so weak. "From where I'm standing, that's a treasonable offense and he could be executed for it. That fixes all our problems as far as I can tell."

Mary's nostrils flared and she swallowed thickly, willing the emotion out of her voice, but noting that it wavered in anger, "I will speak with him and see what I can do, so as to avoid you speaking more on this matter and acting like a tyrant rather than the king I've been ruling with and have grown to love." She said the last word with such malice that it was clear she was feeling anything but love toward him at that precise moment, but she didn't care. She stood quickly, knocking the chair over and walked from the room.


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Epilogue is at the end of this chapter. This will remain a 3-shot._

Knocking softly at the door, Mary heard Louis' voice beckon her in. He was sitting at a desk, writing something. He stood with a smile on his face when he saw her. Standing from his desk, he sauntered over to her and, though he had been aiming to plant a kiss on her lips, his own found her cheek. He cleared his throat and stepped away. "How is Francis?"

Mary was shocked that he would ask. Louis looked down at her and gently stroked the back of her neck. "He's still my king, no matter what I think of the man personally, and my cousin."

Leaning into his touch, she let herself enjoy it for just a moment. Louis was simpler. He wasn't Francis, and she knew that that fact made this conversation necessary, but she could revel in the unassuming simplicity. "He's recovering. You know that he's awake? He's strong enough to carry on a conversation and he should be able to get up for short periods by tomorrow and is expected to keep improving beyond that."

Withdrawing his hand and meeting Mary's eyes, Louis finished Mary's thought, "And now you're here to tell me that it's over."

"Louis." Mary had not truly thought of what she wanted to say on her way to Louis' rooms. She left his name hanging. What could she say? He was right.

Smiling sadly and looking off out the window, "I haven't seen you since yesterday afternoon when you left the room because you couldn't kiss me while your husband might be dying. Then your husband woke up and you didn't come to me after Catherine banished you from the room." He turned to look at her, an accusation present on his face.

Mary ignored it and gave him a questioning look instead and Louis sighed, "Yes, I have my spies just as you have yours and Catherine has hers. I expected you to want to see me. I expected you to be confused and hurting and whatever other emotions you've been feeling that have brought you to me in past weeks. When you never came, I started to think. I realized that I know exactly how this ends." He reached for her hands and she allowed it. He brought one up to his lips for a soft kiss on the back of it. "Mary, you're not naïve, you know that you're not the first married woman I've been with."

Sniffling, Mary forced herself to meet his eyes. "to say it like that, it's as though I'm just another whore, easily lured from her husband's bed by your handsome face and honeyed lips." She stroked his knuckles and looked into his eyes, knowing that it wasn't true even as she said it.

Dropping her hands to hold her face gently, Louis' voice dropped, "Hardly, Mary. I've never fallen in love before. But the story still ends the same, with the woman going back to her husband." He stepped back.

Pursuing him in his avoidance, Mary spoke softly, "Louis, it is more than that. If I left with you, I would be betraying my alliance. The one that does so much to keep Scotland safe. I would be leaving the people of France who are my own just as much as every clan of Scotsmen. This is about more than my feelings for Francis."

Turning back to face her, Louis clasped his hands behind his back. "And your feelings for me? If this is what I need to exist on for love for the rest of my life, then I need to hear it just once more."

Striding toward him and bringing their faces together for one last kiss, Mary tried to convey her emotions in it. They broke apart and with tears in her eyes, Mary stated, confidently, "I love you, Louis. I can't express how much your companionship, guidance, and love has meant to me and I'm so, so sorry."

Choking back his own tears, Louis held her hands and pretended for just a moment that he would get to hold them for the rest of his life, "Mary Stuart, I love you. And I make to you this solemn vow. As long as she is your enemy, Elizabeth Tudor will never find an ally in me." He pulled her close and held her to his chest, "In another lifetime, Mary, we could have found each other differently and had it all."

Mary stayed silent, knowing that in any lifetime, in any time, she would find Francis, and choose him.

* * *

The next few weeks, Mary and Francis tried to find ways to reconnect. They were alone together whenever possible and had even begun sharing a bed most nights.

They made love again. It felt like it did when they were newlyweds when they were alone together in the bedroom, sharing their bodies.

Other times were not so easy. They were working on rebuilding trust. The hardest time for them both was when it came to their attention that Condé had wed Elizabeth by proxy but all evidence and witness had been consumed in a fire. Mary felt her heart break all over again, knowing that he had broken his promise to her.

When Francis set up checkpoints to catch Condé, Mary was there, by his side, assuring him that they had to do what was best for their reign and that whatever the consequences, she would deal with them.

She sat next to Francis when Louis was brought before them and Francis ordered him taken to the dungeon.

She was there when Antoine came to court to sign away his claim to the French throne and she looked coldly into Louis' eyes as he did the same, per the terms of Louis' release.

That night, Francis came to his room, expecting not to find Mary there. He expected that she would be grieving for her lost lover and his betrayal of her. However, he entered the door to find lit candles and his wife waiting for him.

6 weeks later, Mary told him of her pregnancy and they celebrated together.

He would find another day to tell her that the pain in his ear had returned.


End file.
